Fugitives
by Li the Twilight Knight
Summary: Myu Alternate Ending: Eric and Alan manage to avoid both the demon and the Dispatch, unknowingly saving both of their lives. Living as fugitives isn't easy, but they manage. They have each other, after all. EricxAlan because there's not enough of the two of them.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story was inspired by a mini-RP me and my girlfriend did a while ago. And I need to write some fluff. And there's not enough for this pair. So. Here we go! Enjoy!

* * *

**Prologue**

Arms snug around his waist.

Warm lips pressed to the crook of his neck.

The faint scratch of stubble against his skin.

Despite the relative hopelessness of their situation, Alan couldn't help but settle into the protective embrace of his partner. Everything seemed too close and too far away all at once, and Eric was a solid reality. He always had been, really.

They'd had to run. The Dispatch Society and the demon were both after Eric, and Alan wasn't letting the other go without a fight. Nine hundred and ninety-nine sins weren't enough to stop him from loving the older reaper, and if William wasn't going to listen to him, they would just have to stay away until he was willing to. Even if that meant staying away forever.

The empty attic they'd found just on the outskirts of London wasn't the warmest place, but it was away from the Dispatch, and that was all that mattered. Eric had insisted that Alan needed time to recover before they left the city. It wouldn't help either of them if he had an attack from the stress of the previous evening. They'd taken every precaution possible to ensure that they weren't followed, hoping to throw the demon off the scent, so just for now, they were relatively safe.

"Eric…?" Alan whispered, leaning his head back on the elder reaper's shoulder. Eric hummed questioningly in response, and Alan shut his eyes. "Where are we going to go?"

Eric shifted his grip on the smaller reaper, holding him closer. "I don' know. Outta London, at th' very least. Spears'll be lookin' everywhere for us." The department manager wasn't one to let such a flagrant disregard for the rules go unpunished. He'd said as much at the opera; he planned to wipe even the memory of Eric from existence in their realm. "I'd say let's jus' leave England entirely, but he'll alert th' other branches… Wouldn' do t'have fugitives on th' loose."

"Fugitives…" Alan murmured, sounding sleepy. It was nearing morning, and he hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours. "All the things I never thought I'd be, and here I am. On the run from my own workplace."

"You aren't supposed t' be," Eric huffed. He tightened his grip on the younger reaper, nuzzling into his hair. "I knew what I was gettin' into. I knew I wasn' gonna be able to jus' come back and go back t' work like nothin' had happened. But you were supposed t' be able to jus' keep goin' on with your life…" He laughed helplessly. "But you're so stubborn…"

Alan giggled sleepily, nuzzling up under Eric's chin. "No, right now I'm just sleepy…"

Eric rolled his eyes, shifting Alan off of his lap and going to rummage through the attic space. It was obvious how tired the other was; he only really got giggly when extremely happy or extremely exhausted, and neither of them could be very happy right now, considering their circumstances. Hopefully there was something suitable to be used as bedding in this old attic. It was tough without his glasses, but he managed to unearth some moth-eaten blankets and worn cushions. He fashioned them a makeshift nest in their little corner, and tugged a yellowed, hole-riddled duvet around the two of him as Alan settled back into his arms. "'s not th' most comfortable bed around, but it'll do."

"I think it's just fine…" Alan mumbled, tucking his head back beneath Eric's chin. He sounded near-asleep already.

"Well, I'll keep'n eye on everythin', so jus' go t'sleep." He'd gotten used to keeping watch, to always being on the lookout for his kin when he was hunting for souls. He could tell if they were coming long before they arrived, and he would protect Alan, whatever it took. His partner didn't need to suffer for his actions. As Alan breathed against his neck, slow and even with sleep, unburdened by the Thorns for the moment, he smoothed his hand over the brunet's back. His goals hadn't changed. Not really. He was still going to keep his partner safe, whether from the Thorns or the rest of the Dispatch. It didn't matter.

If William T. Spears wanted them, he'd have to catch them first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Life beyond Death**

"Alan? I'm back! Come help me put these away!" Eric called, kicking the back door shut behind him and setting the bags of groceries on the counter. "Alan?"

That was odd. Alan was usually in the spare room this time of day, and the house was small enough that he should be able to hear if Eric was calling for him. For a moment, something cold and terrible filled Eric's heart, and he dashed out of the kitchen in search of the brunet. "Alan?!"

Not in the living room. Not in the dining room. Not in the spare room or the bathroom. Eric pushed open the door to their bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of his partner curled up under the covers, sound asleep. He'd genuinely been scared for a moment; Alan had gotten attacks while he'd been out before. But the younger's face was peaceful, and Eric shut the door carefully to avoid disturbing him.

They'd been here for three weeks; "here" being an abandoned farmhouse about two miles from a small village. After about a week of travelling the countryside and getting enough of a distance from London to throw anyone chasing them off the scent, they'd decided to stay here as long as they could. It took a lot of adjusting to get used to the idea that they no longer had to get up and go to work, no longer had to answer to anyone. They had to get used to pretending to be mortal, and also hiding their relationship, as humans weren't as accepting as reaper society. To anyone else, they were simply "two good friends" who had decided to move into the old house and try their hand at farming.

Eric had killed an entire row of plants in the first week. He had no green thumb at all, and Alan had joked that the plants didn't like him because they knew he was the one who would end up cooking them. So now the plants flourished under Alan's hands, and Eric stayed in the kitchen and dealt with actually making the meals. For now, they got by on groceries from the town, as together they had enough money saved up to live on for at least a little while.

As he finished putting away the last of the food, Alan wandered into the kitchen, yawning, dressed in a plain white shirt and some grey sleep pants. "I didn't mean to sleep so long. I'm sorry. I would have helped with the groceries."

"I know ya would've. It's fine. Don' worry about it," Eric replied. "I got enough stuff t' last the week. We're goin' t' have grilled chicken an' rice tonight."

"That sounds good." Alan got himself a glass of water, sitting down at the worn table and looking out the kitchen window. "We need to get some curtains soon. It's unnerving having the windows uncovered all the time." Even though it had been a month, the younger reaper was still worried that someone was going to see them, catch them, turn them in and have Eric taken away.

Eric grinned. "I mentioned it t' Rissa when I saw her at the butcher's. She volunteered t' make some for us. Said we jus' have t' pick a color." He wandered over, ruffling Alan's hair fondly. "I was thinkin' somethin' lavender-ish, like your erica flowers."

"Lavender won't match the settee in the living room…" Alan mumbled, lost in thought. The house, thankfully, had been full of furniture when they arrived, although they'd had to wash all the blankets, sheets, and most of the towels.

Blinking down at his partner, Eric pointed out quietly, "Y'do know that nothin' in this house matches, right? We've got orange an' yellow towels, blue sheets, an' purple couches." They had simply assumed when they moved in that the previous owners had made do with whatever they had. "Lavender'll match purple. It's a shade of purple, right?"

"But it has to be the same tone or it'll look all wrong." Alan said, looking up to meet his gaze. They held the look between them for a long moment, before Alan started laughing. Eric's expression shifted to 'completely baffled', and the brunet tried to explain, "Is this… Is this what it would have been like if we'd moved into a flat together?"

That earned a smile, and Eric took the chair beside him, sitting down and slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Nah. We'd've picked out the couches an' the curtains at the same time. So there wouldn' be all this fuss." He smirked good-naturedly, adding, "Picky li'l honors boy."

"Buffoon of a mentor," Alan responded immediately, leaning over to peck him on the cheek. Eric didn't let him lean back to his previous position, tugging the smaller into his lap with a chuckle.

"Ya got that nap earlier, so it'll be all right if I keep you up tonight, won' it?" he teased, feathering kisses over Alan's jaw. The brunet squirmed, laughing at the attention paid to his neck as Eric moved lower, swatting at him with no real intent to push him away. It was strange to be so openly affectionate. They'd had to be subtle in the office; hell, they'd barely kissed before the emotional moment when they had decided to run. But now any excuse for touch was a good one. There was a lot of time to make up for.

"Only if dinner is good!" Alan insisted, finally getting hold of Eric's hair and yanking him up for a proper kiss. "I have standards!"

"Yeah, and those standards are that I be me, and that I love ya, and y'know those're both true," Eric replied. He pressed a last kiss to Alan's cheek and then got up, shifting the other back to his original seat. "Gotta start warming up the oven."

Alan settled back at the table to watch him, a stupid, content smile on his face. Though he still wondered if they could have had something like this if they'd lived together in the reaper realm, it didn't matter. They were both here now, and whether they were deserters, runaways, fugitives, or whatever the Dispatch wanted to label them as, this was home. It felt more like home than his small, neat, _empty_ flat ever had. It had mismatched chairs and linens and a cracked window and a spot in the corner where the roof leaked. And it had Eric, which was the most important thing of all.


	3. Chapter 3

**What it means to be Human**

Alan had insisted on accompanying him down to town. Never mind that it was snowing, never mind that the wind was blowing, never mind that he was sick. The brunet had put his foot down: he was going with Eric, and that was final.

Eric knew better than to argue with his little partner when he was that determined, and so found himself and Alan picking from a selection of vegetables to use for dinner that night. They'd been eating better lately, as Eric had started making a bit of extra money doing odd jobs in town.

"What about these, Eric?" the younger asked, holding up a turnip.

"They're in season, but I don' think they'd be right for what I'm tryin' t' make," Eric replied, coming over to look. "One day I'm gonna teach ya t' cook, Alan. Then you'll be able t' properly pick out veggies." He passed the turnips, instead looking over the onions with a critical eye. "Go look at the green peppers. See if ya see any that aren' squishy 'r spotted, an' grab one."

Alan scurried off, eager to help, and Eric picked out an onion before going over to grab some carrots as well. He tucked them into the bag he'd brought along, heading over to pick up a few extra things as well, and met Alan at the counter. "Good. We're havin' stir-fry for dinner, and this'll be perfect." He added Alan's green pepper to the bag and handed it to the older man working the counter. "That's all for t'day, Thomas."

The man checked everything over. "That'll be three pounds, Eric," he said, sliding the bag back. "Didn't know if we were going to see you, what with the walk and the fact that it's snowing."

"Well, gotta have somethin' decent t' eat for dinner." Eric shrugged, handing over the money.

Thomas turned to look at Alan, next. "And you must be Alan. He mentions you often. Are you feeling better, son?"

Alan was somewhat taken aback. He knew Eric had to have told the townspeople something about their sudden move into the farmhouse, but he hadn't expected concern from strangers. "I'm doing all right for the moment, sir."

"That's good." To Eric, he asked, "Are you heading to Rissa's next?"

"Yep. Got one more thing t' pick up."

"Tell her I've got her potatoes set aside, will you?"

"Will do." Eric waved, reaching for Alan's hand and heading for the door, bag of groceries on his other arm. As they made their way down the snowy street, he explained, "Thomas is Rissa's uncle. Hasn't got any kids of his own, so he dotes on her."

Alan gaped at him, but said nothing, instead just nodding along in understanding. They entered a slightly smaller building, the fabrics on the walls marking it as a seamstress's shop. The younger was distracted for a moment by all the colors and patterns, but looked up when Eric called him over. He was up at the counter with a young woman with blonde hair, holding a wool coat in his arms. "Alan! Come try this on!"

Seeing no harm in following the request, Alan shrugged off his threadbare coat and took the woolen one. Eric beamed, explaining as he put it on, "This is Rissa. She's the one who made the curtains we put in the living room."

"Oh. They turned out lovely," Alan said, still feeling that faint astonishment at Eric's behavior. He buttoned the coat, looking curiously at his partner and wondering what was going on.

"I'm glad you liked them!" Rissa said brightly. She clapped her hands together. "Oh, and that fits you perfectly! I knew it would!"

"What?"

Eric grinned. "It's yours. Consider it an early Christmas present."

"Eric, we can't afford…!"

"Yeah we can," Eric said, still smiling. "Your other coat is wearin' away at the seams. I'd rather ya not get more sick if ya insist on comin' out with me." With Alan stunned into silence once again, he tossed Rissa a few notes. "Thanks, luv. We'll see ya 'round."

Rissa winked. "Anytime. Safe trip home!"

xXx

Alan was quiet the rest of the walk home, thinking. It wasn't until after dinner, when Eric was sitting in the living room reading a book and kneading bread dough for tomorrow, that he finally decided to bring up what he was wondering about. "Eric? About today…" He'd thanked Eric for the coat during dinner. It really was much warmer. But that wasn't what he was worried about.

"Hm?" Eric looked up, book set aside for the moment as he fussed with the dough in the bowl.

"You…treated those people so normally. Watching you, it was like seeing you around the office."

"Yeah, so?" Eric shrugged, tossing in some more flour.

"But they're human. And you've never…" Eric had never been one to see humans as more than a job. He wasn't like Alan, who empathized with their feelings. He did his work properly and souls were nothing more than the stamp on their paperwork.

Eric looked at him, something soft in his eyes. "That's not my job anymore," he said quietly. "An' livin' here, bein' part of a community, I sorta have t' see them as more than a name on a page, right? I think your empathy's rubbin' off on me." He set the bowl aside, getting up and coming over to cup Alan's face in his hands. "I think I can understand ya better, since you've felt like that all along." He pecked the brunet on the lips, and Alan squirmed, laughing.

"You're getting flour all over me!"

Eric ran his hands through Alan's hair, covering it in a dusting of white despite the other's protests. "I guess _we_'ll just have to take a shower, then." He put special emphasis on the 'we', as Alan ruffled his own hair and put a dusty handprint on Eric's shirt and got the other hand onto his hair. He had to jump a bit, but he managed to get the powdery mess into the darker part of Eric's hair, turning it grey. "Oh, you're in for it now!" the older reaper growled, going over to put a blanket over the bowl of dough and coming back to snatch Alan up into a bridal-hold. He marched towards the bathroom, ignoring Alan's flailing. "Oh, no, inta the bath with ya, ya mad thing!"

And if the shower took a bit longer than normal, it wasn't like anyone else was around to know.


End file.
